


Morningstar (Book 1)

by Larentia_ray09



Series: MORGENTALE (an Undertale au) [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mild Gore, Morgentale, Romance, Undertale AU, a lot of creatures, like evil creepy creatures, ships, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-05 08:41:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larentia_ray09/pseuds/Larentia_ray09
Summary: Stories told of monsters and men, of the war they fought, and those they lost, of eternal darkness,  that brought the star of day, and the spire where it lay.Excerpt from the inscriptions on DAYBREAK SPIRE.Monsters.The first thing that comes to one’s mind would be a ferocious beast that waits in your closet to devour you. They were nothing more than a myth, told by parents to have their children drink their medicine and go to bed on time. Nothing but stories.But every story and legend has a drop of truth behind its words.Frisk and Chara, sisters who live in Ebott slums could vouch for it.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This Work is an Undertale AU that strictly belongs to me. you can check out further details, art and ask questions in my deviantart account's Morgentale Gallery: https://www.deviantart.com/larentiaray09/gallery/70381430/morgentale
> 
> Similarly, I do not own Undertale.

Asgore stoked his mane, looking out at the vast expanse of his kingdom. It was as it always was, peaceful, full of happy people and life. He smiled sadly as his massive hand lay rest at his side. How many years has it been since they retreated here? Eighty? Ninety? Quite a while, that was certain. Asgore had lost count of his age thirty years ago. He was old, at least in the standards of the humans.

The Morning-star’s light shone softly through the cavern, illuminating the underground. The simple eight pointed gem gave them so much, it was almost unbelievable…

“Dad?” whispered a soft voice.

Asgore turned to see the small figure of his ten-year old son. Asriel stood a short distance away, beside a pillar, in his tiny hands clutching a blanket. Asgore furrowed his eyebrows as he slowly ambled towards him and rested his body on one knee, bending forward a little to look his son in the eye. The young prince looked troubled.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Asgore asked gently. Asriel silently nodded, his green eyes wide and afraid.

“It was dark…”he whimpered. “So…so dark. And you were all…_gone_.”

He felt a pang of worry and pity, looking at his son’s trembling form. There were times when he used to wake up in bed, panting and crying after nightmares of witnessing his family’s death and then soothed by Toriel’s green magic. But he smiled gently at his son and took his hand, leading him through the hallways of the castle, back to their modest home.

“You don’t have to worry about the darkness, my dear boy.” He soothed gently. Asriel looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. He obviously didn’t believe his father’s words and Asgore felt mild exasperation at the action. He paused at a corner, staring forward, then at the side.

“Dad?” Asriel called out, looking at his father’s large figure, then following his line of sight. The boss monster heard his son gasp.

“You know I’m not allowed there!” the young child accused, tugging on his father’s hand. “Mother said I can’t enter the hallway till I start growing my horns!”

Asgore chuckled at the mention of his <strike>formidable </strike>loving wife, a rebellious spark igniting within his SOUL. He pulled his son into the forbidden hallway.

“Well, we can’t wait three years. I’ve been hoping to show you this place soon.” He chortled, before his jovial tone morphed to slight nervousness. “Just…don’t tell your mother, alright son?”

Asriel beamed with inexplicable happiness which made Asgore’s SOUL bloom with warmth. The father-son duo padded quietly, careful not to make any noise, which…

It didn’t really work out since Asriel was too busy suppressing loud giggles. His mirth slowly died away to awe as he caught sight of the paintings that stretched across the walls and ceilings, depictions of the war and the colorful dots of the human SOULS. A rather large and eye-catching centerpiece was the large window that showed seven human mages clad in shimmering robes and hoods, their SOULS floating to the sky forming a shimmering rainbow and a familiar eight-pointed star.

Asgore sighed at the sight of the stained glass. He regarded the mages for a few moments. This was a story told to several children, of the war and seven humans, who thought differently from their other brethren, and their sacrifice.

“That’s them?” Asriel whispered, walking forward, then stopping to keep some distance.

“Yes.” Came the soft reply. The child, his child turned around and looked at the paintings that were hung on the wall. Candles illuminated the human’s faces, and below them, in glass cases, to each mage, a weapon, a piece of armor or a shield.

“And these are the stuff they wielded?” he asked again, a little louder this time.

Asgore nodded, patiently waiting for his son’s questions as they strode deeper into the halls. He looked at the statues of his ancestors and the old swords and tridents that hung on the walls.

“What about this?”

“And this?”

“And this?”

“Oooooh, what does this do?”

“Waiit, don’t-“

_WHAACKK!_

“…touch…that…”

The playful banter lasted through their entire walk till Asriel’s steps were slow and his eyes half lidded. He suppressed a yawn and stumbled forward as Asgore unlocked a large doorway and they found themselves in the basement of their modest house. Asgore looked out of the window and saw the rays of the Morningstar shine from a soft blue to a brighter ray as the minutes ticked by. He suppressed a gulp and gently picked Asriel up, and tip-toed to his bedroom. The young prince had snuggled deeper into his chest; he was asleep.

The furry boss hoped his bulk doesn’t creak the floorboards (even though most of his bulk was fur). He didn’t want Toriel waking up and asking questions. Asgore knew perfectly well how bad he was at lying and he didn’t want to drag poor Asriel into this either. He quickly ducked into the bedroom and tucked his son in. He felt a sense of tenderness at the sight of him asleep. Asgore always had a strong paternal instinct and stars, he wondered how he would have felt if he had lost his wife or his son.

He walked out of the room and ambled to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The sound of the front door unlocking raised his guard as he slowly walked over to see who it was. His shoulders relaxed at the familiar face and he sent him a happy smile.

“Ah, Gerson!” he rumbled. “Take a seat. Would you like some tea?”

The tortoise monster shrugged and chuckled.

“Well, I’d love ta’, but I can’t. Undyne’s getting antsy about beginin’ her trainin’.” He replied, taking a seat anyway. He leaned back on the comfy chair and shut his eyes for a while.

Asgore’s memory flashed back to the turquoise scaled fish monster who Gerson had adopted. She had challenged him to a fight not too long ago and he couldn’t bring herself to hurt her. But seeing the DETERMINATION that pulsed through her SOUL made her shine with potential.

“Undyne’s training? Didn’t I give you my permission to begin?” he asked.

“Ha, yeah ya’ did.” He snorted. “But I din’ come ‘ere ta’ ask ya’, Fluffybuns.” Gerson snorted. “I came fer’ ‘er majesty.”

“Oh.”

Asgore dived into the kitchen again, suppressing a giggle. Of course Toriel would be on the war path after the tortoise-monster if he started training a girl as young as Undyne. He exited, balancing a cup of hot golden flower tea and some pie at the side. Setting the tray on the small table, he sat across Gerson and they began to silently sip the warm drinks, watching the garden outside the window.

Then Asgore blinked; Gerson choking on his tea. The two of them got to their feet and ran outside, panting as they looked around. They couldn’t see anything.

Which was the problem.

The underground had lapsed to darkness. Which meant…

“DAD!” screamed Asriel from inside the house. He could hear the scuffle of feet as the rest of the royal family joined them. The young prince clung to his mother’s robe as Toriel looked at Asgore with wide brown eyes.

“It’s happening…” Asriel whimpered, tears welling up. “It’s happening…”

“Asgore…the…” she began, walking forward.

…the Morningstar was gone.


	2. 01.Traffickers, bruised hands and falling bricks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara is running from a few sickos, back to a sister who is not happy...

This is it.

The slums of Ebott, a place of murder and crime. Filled with starveling people, from malnourished children to the skeletal old. A stark contrast to the nicer side of it, situated in the center where the monarchy resided. Ebott was one of the only countries which was still ruled by the crown, a single ruling party led by a man drunk with power.

Tyranny, most of the underprivileged would say.

And it was true, the state of the people proving it. While most of the men and women worked in factories and the fields, the noblemen and the rich would sit back on their silk cushions making small talk. So out here in the slums, it’s a harsh world. Not a place for the kind or compassionate. It was ‘every man to himself’, where gangs and thugs along with small time thieves raided and pillaged houses and murdered to survive.

It was kill or be killed…

_THUNK!!_

A blur raced down the muddy streets, followed by a group of men, four in number. Chara weaved through the people, careful not to step on anything that would harm her or take a wrong turn. While she knew her neighborhood like the back of her hand, the rest of the slum network was a labyrinth of houses and alleyways.

A few people jumped at the sight of her and automatically moved aside. They knew from pure experience that the feisty brunette was in no way gentle. She looked over at the, some of them gazing at her with disgust, some with fear and some with awe. Internally rolling her eyes, she panted and skidded to a stop, taking another alternative.

She scampered on to a cart and shimmied up a half dilapidated wall. The men were not too far behind, their eyes trained on her own. She growled at the sight of them and carefully ran across the narrow footing, then launching herself to the nearest roof. She almost fell off in the process, but managed to get a better equilibrium and took off, holding her arms out as she stepped over shingles and pipes.

Chara stumbled over a loose brick and winced with pain. She kept going, sidestepping a pole and scrambling up another roof. She then bent her knees and leapt to the next building, whose stone foundation crumbled dangerously below her. She needed to get off it and FAST.

Below her, the men were gaining on her.

“FUCK!” she swore, changing course. She didn’t want to deal with those sickos. She looked back, the men taking a small lane beside the crumbling house and gritted her teeth. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. She finally reached a broken down balcony and stood at the edge as the men hooted with delight and surrounded her from below, looking up at her with grinning faces.

“Why don’ ya jump, lassie?” one of them taunted. “S’okay, I don’ bite.”

She gnashed her teeth, blue hues wild as she flipped them off.

“Like hell!” she spat out, kicking some rubble down at them. They yelled out when one of them was hit and he keeled over, forehead bleeding. The burning rage and hate Chara felt at this point quelled with the drop of satisfaction when she saw the sight. She could openly come out and admit she wasn’t afraid to hurt anyone if it was to her advantage. A thief in Ebott lived by their own rules, no matter how convoluted or twisted, and Chara stuck to hers.

The man wasn’t dead though. She knew Frisk would never forgive her if she killed someone…speaking of which…

She looked around for another way out and spotted a parapet that stuck out. There was a drop at the other side which led to an alleyway. Perhaps she should take the risk? She could make a beeline straight for home after that.

“It could work…” Chara muttered under her breath, panting softly.

She feinted a jump and the men, foolish enough to believe she had given up, had stepped back to pounce on her when she hit ground. But she twisted her body with surprising flexibility and leapt on the parapet, crouching to steady herself. The men yelled with shock and anger, one of them who sported a stubbly beard acted fast and followed her up the wall.

Chara hissed and quickly snaked her way to the other end. She glanced back; the man had reached out to her and abruptly grabbed her forearm. The rest of his lackeys cheered, waving their arms and rushing to them.

“Way ta’ go, Noah!”

“Great job!”

He pulled her closer as she struggled and tried to push her off the parapet. She growled, thrashing against his grip. She felt her weight drop; she was at the verge of being flung off into the men’s greedy grip.

“No way, motherfucker!” she screamed, digging her heels into the concrete and elbowing his arm.

“GAH!” he let go of her and Chara took her chance, punching him in the jaw. Blood dribbled down his lips as he fell over and coughed out some blood. She wished she could have stayed back to see if she had knocked out his tooth, but she shook it off and rolled into the alleyway, out of sight. The darkness dimmed her features, her eyes shadowed by her messy bangs. Behind her, she heard the men curse.

Ha. Serves them right. She grinned maliciously, dusting her green shirt delicately. She flexed her fingers, a bruise already beginning to form around her knuckles. Frowning, she brushed her digit over it gently, then shook her head with disappointment. Frisk was certainly going to see this, she thought miserably.

She regretted not bringing her dagger along.

🌟

Frisk drummed the pads of her fingers against the rickety wood table, a chipped plate that held some brittle bread and the bowl of gruel laid across her. Supper today wasn’t as bad, she usually had to stay out longer scrubbing down the walls free of grime and dirt of the local store to get a luxury like this. Usually she and Chara had to make do with stale bread, gruel and broth with the occasional onion being terribly overpriced.

She frowned, wishing she had a watch or a clock, but even those simple machines didn’t have to tell her that her sister was hopelessly late. Chara did have a nasty habit of leaving her behind in this shack while she stole from a few of the better off residents of the slums. While her intentions were fair, Frisk was still a little disappointed that she used to resort to violence so many times.

She sighed, slouching dramatically and resting her chin on her hands. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, she glanced to the front door again. There was no activity; it didn’t swing open, declaring Chara’s arrival. Instead it gave a creak, almost saying that it was tired of being slammed open and shut. Frisk eyed it with pity. The poor thing…

A few more minutes ticked by and Frisk fond her hands shaking with anxiety. She was worried. It was so late, her sister was never this tardy! Stars, what if Chara had an accident? What if she was captured or beaten or…or…

_WHAMM!_

She jumped, startled at the sudden entrance of her sister who quickly shut it behind her. She was muttering to herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and panting softly.

“Hi!” she greeted, grinning weakly at her. Frisk saw the sweat that glistened on her forehead and the wild look in her eye. She was obviously out ransacking someone else’s home again. Frisk felt a flash of annoyance at this. She didn’t like it when Chara stole away someone else’s hardly earned money or getting herself into life threatening situations.

But she had heard this phrase so many times from her.

Kill or be killed.

Frisk knew her kindness was a weakness in the slums, Chara had told her plenty of times that she could be taken advantage of. That’s why the aggressive sibling always acted as an escort when she was out…

But instead of displaying her stolen goods, Chara shuffled over to the table and flopped down, ravenously attacking her bread. She snuck a glance at Frisk who eyed her critically, confusion blatant on her face. She didn’t understand. Chara didn’t steal this time? And…was that a bruise?

She rose from her seat and walked towards her sister, stopping beside her and grabbing her right hand. The ugly purple bruise made her wince as she gingerly touched it. She then sent Chara an accusatory look and the latter looked away in defiance.

“What happened?” she asked softly, gently caressing it. Her forehead creased with worry, when Chara gritted her teeth. It obviously hurt.

“N-nothing.”

Frisk sighed, gently setting her hand on the table while and briskly walking to the small stove. She boiled some water, leaning against the stone counter and watching her with sharp blue hues. Chara simply looked down, bruised hand still resting on the table while the other clumsily pushed ore bread into her mouth.

“Chara please.” Frisk finally whispered, breaking the silence between them a look of worry and exasperation crossed her face. She wanted to help her sister. She wanted her to tell her what was wrong. She was DETERMINED to.

“There were a few traffickers.” Chara mumbled, ducking her head up to look at her. Frisk suppressed a gasp as she quickly put out the fire. Finding a clean cloth, she quickly placed the hot water on the table and soaked the clean rag. Then, she pushed her chair next to Chara and seated herself.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked again.

“No. I landed a punch on one of them, then hightailed it outta there.” She replied, expression stoic as Frisk gently pressed the cloth over her bruise. A mischievous smile suddenly graced her lips. “You should have seen the looks on their faces. They never saw that coming!”

A little too much pressure was applied on the bruise and Chara yelped. She looked up; Frisk knew she was wearing what most called ‘her neutral face’, where her mouth was set in a straight line and eyes in a deadpan. Chara chuckled nervously and ceased her gloating.

“I hope they didn’t follow you back.” Frisk whispered softly. Her sister shook her head, confidence lighting her eyes.

“Nah, they’re probably crying back to their mothers.” She giggled flippantly Frisk bit back a snigger and continued to treat the bruise.

Chara hummed to herself, a familiar tune. Frisk turned her head to the wood music box that rested on one of the messily constructed shelves. It was the only thing in value here and in spite of Chara’s desperate pleas she refused to sell it. The box was the only thing their parents left them.

“Do you think they miss us?” she asked unconsciously, before regretting it. Her sister’s eyebrows had furrowed with suppressed anger.

“If they did, they never would have dumped us here.” She snapped. Frisk dipped her head down sadly, as she snuck another look at the music box. It was the ugly truth. She and Chara never knew why her parents had abandoned them in the slums. Before all of this, before all the murder and stealing and hunger, they lived a happy life. 

“Maybe they do, though.” She decided. “We can keep hoping, right?”

Chara glanced at her before leaning back on her chair and exhaling deeply.

“Maybe.” She agreed. Then she blinked. “Hey, wasn’t that kid…Jamie supposed to drop by to collect the coal dust?”

Frisk nodded.

“Yeah, he is a little late.” She agreed, before narrowing her eyes at her, grinning. “Not unlike you.”

There was a sudden knock on the door and the two girls snapped their heads at it. Frisk set aside the hot water and the rag and rose from her seat. She quickly wiped her hands on her sweater and opened the door.

“Hi! You ca-“

She blinked when she was pulled forward and a hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes widened as she tried to scream, a strong chemical filling her nostrils. She looked over at Chara who was now a green blur who was screaming her name. Blood pounded through her ears and she felt her head spin. She…she was losing consciousness. Shivering helplessly, she rolled her head to her attacker.

“Well, lassie, ya’ din’ need ta’ take th’ jump afta’ all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON HIATUS TILL FURTHUR NOTICE!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna check out some more stuff? Check out my deviantart account https://www.deviantart.com/larentiaray09/gallery/70381430/morgentale


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